


Go Home, Start Again

by BunnyHoodlum



Series: NaruHina2020 [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Sharing a Body, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyHoodlum/pseuds/BunnyHoodlum
Summary: My submission for NH2020 February's theme "Time Loop".
Relationships: Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto, RTN!Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto
Series: NaruHina2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598686
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	Go Home, Start Again

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written about domestic life before, I'm shit at depicting Hokage stuff accurately, so please bear with my heavy-handed artistic licensing. Q w Q;;;
> 
> I'm super nervous to post this because I ran out of time to edit it. I hope you like!

_"You could still be_  
_What you want to,_  
_What you said you were,_  
_When I met you,"_

_\- Daughter "Medicine"_

.

.

,

Exhaustion has settled deep into his brain. It circulates downwards through his bloodstream and latches heavily onto his bones.

Shadow Clones disperse one at a one, one for every heavy step towards home, and their memories steadily pulse into the rare, piercing migraine.

_Tonkatsu-ya's sign has been stolen._

_Madam Shimiji is missing another cat._

_A group of kids, between ages twelve to fifteen, are suspected of scamming foreign visitors._

He tells himself the genin can take care of these things.

But then the intel becomes too sensitive for even their most trusted Chuunin.

_Another rumor. Someone's testing out poisons on the brothel girls downtown. They tell nightmarish stories when they come to, but their symptoms still resemble a normal hangover._

_That's the fifth guy I've seen hiding the same back tattoo in the past week. There's whispers that they may be a black market group. What are they dealing?_

_Oh, here's another one._ In his mind's eye, there was a man standing on the side of the street, crazy-eyed and emphatic in his delivery.

Despite quite clearly saving the world from the Mother of all Shinobi herself, somehow the second revival of the Kaguya Clan had arisen, this time in the form of belief, not blood.

 _"WE ARE INGRATES! WE ARE ALL THIEVES!"_ _He bellowed beneath the glaring orange of the dipping sun._ This moment had passed five hours ago, and his clone had signalled a nearby Chuunin to tell the fraudulent preacher to move right along.

These people were twisted and they wanted to twist others.

Even without the paperwork piling up in the Hokage's Tower, there's still so much work to be done.

He enters the front door.

"Tadaima." He slurs from sleepiness as he works off his sandals. They fall to the genkan like heavy boots, and the clap echoes through his darkened home.

"Okaeri nasai," Her soothing voice flows towards him like a breeze, and his gaze shifts up to meet her lovely face. His wife tip-toes down the steps, her smile a little crooked and sheepish. "I just put them to sleep."

As her slight frame approaches him, he feels utterly compelled to collapse atop her right where he stood and pepper kisses along her neck.

She looks so cozy in her flannel pajamas.

Her modesty has always been a tease.

* * *

He makes sure every night is like this.

Even if she is already asleep.

Even if he finds her passed out on the couch.

He makes sure they're both in bed, her slight frame and full curves tucked inside the weight of his arms, her back pressed against the shield of his chest, and her shampoo filling his nose, sending him off into a world of sweet dreams.

She's his sunny clearing in a deep dark forest. The only place where he can replenish himself, body and soul.

He's thirty-one and yet the past is never too far from his mind.

His tiny savior, his number one cheerleader, he could have lost her countless of times and it's this thought that has him tightening his arms around her each and every night.

She giggles a bit, her voice muffled with sleep, and her hands sliding up to fold over his own, to remind him that she's real, to assure him that she's not going anywhere.

He noses her crown and kisses her hair.

His migraine no longer feels like his blood is stampeding into his brain, it's more like quiet footfalls, ones that are growing more and more distant.

It's because she's here.

Because she's all he has to think about, and he can rest just for a moment.

He can just be Uzumaki Naruto again, blissfully married.

* * *

Sunlight pierces his brain and his eyes snap open.

Naruto climbs out of bed, his soles touching the cool floor, and he pauses there in the threshold between dreams and reality.

He stretches, moaning as he pops his back one vertebrae at a time.

He pulls on a pair of orange joggers and heads downstairs. The delicious smell of breakfast envelopes him the closer he reaches the kitchen and it melts away his morning fatigue.

He hovers just outside the entryway, watching her.

His wife expertly pushed a thin layer of omelette into a roll with chopsticks. Beside her on a tray are four bowls of miso soup and fluffy white rice. On the counter is a plate of roasted fish and tsukemono as well.

Even now, he can't help but smile how their meals have steadily increased over the years, from when it used to just be the two of them, then baby food for Boruto, then his first solid meal, then Himawari's baby food, her first solid meal.

Maybe there was still room for one more?

He chuckles at his own thoughts, and his wife turns to smile at him.

"Good morning, Anata." Her voice is as clear and inviting as a clear sky, the bliss on her face aimed solely at him embodies the radiance of the sun, and for a moment he forgets to breathe.

Really, how did he get a wife like this?

* * *

Naruto used to always eat as fast as he possibly could. He had to race off towards a new training regimen, a new ambition, a new sight, always something new.

But as these twelve years rush ever forward to that unknown stage, he's been wanting more and more of the same.

He has to be at the office, but he's trying to slow down, to drag out this morning with his family.

His son is looking at him warily.

"Oi, something wrong with mom's cooking?"

"What? No, your mom's cooking gets better and better every day."

Boruto stares at his partially eaten fish, the untouched tamagoyaki, the rice bowl which bore a divot.

"Uh-huh." Boruto finishes his last bite of rice with tsukemono and he takes his dishes over to the sink.

Naruto glances at his wife with worry, but her reassuring smile blows the building weight off of his shoulders.

Her eyes narrowed at him in amusement.

"I know you love my cooking. But you're going to be late."

He hasn't forgotten his responsibilities.

But wouldn't it be nice if this moment could last forever?

* * *

He's sent out a clone transformed to look like a civilian to the same streets he saw those tattooed men roaming.

He doesn't want to waste Sai's time just yet.

If they're not Bōryokudan, but simply part of a harmless organization, then he will divert his attention elsewhere.

His clone slouches against a wall beside a dumpster when he senses a gathering of ten men in the adjacent alley. It's nothing but nondescript warehouses here, and the alley leads to a dead end. It's a good spot. They only have to worry about the entrance where he is hiding.

"How's it looking?" One of them said, his voice coarser than sandpaper.

"It's coming together. No one will know the difference." Said another, his voice smarmy and significantly younger.

"They better not."

Naruto's clone jumped high and landed backwards onto the roof without a sound. Crouching down, he watched as the meeting dispersed. He grit his teeth.

He had been so close, he should have gotten here earlier.

Surely they would not meet in the same place every time?

* * *

Madam Shimiji's cat ran away. Again.

A new batch of genin will take care of it.

Naruto is plugging away at a new report when a knock comes to the door.

"Come iiiin."

Shikamaru is making rounds through the Hokage's Tower

The door opens with a creak and a familiar silhouette catches his eye.

Naruto's gaze moves away from the computer screen to his visitor, and he lights up at the sight of his wife.

She's carrying a bento bundled in cloth, and she's shrinking sheepishly like she used to when they were kids. The sight makes his nose wrinkle slightly before he breaks out into a grin.

"Hey, don't just stand there, silly!"

Her apprehension evaporates and she straightens up, then closes the door behind her.

"Thought you might be hungry." She said as she placed the bento down in front of him.

His stomach groaned and he hurried to untie the cloth.

Hinata circled around the desk to his side and organized his paperwork, giving him space to eat.

She leaned against the desk, watching as he took off the lid, his grin widening at the arrangement.

But then she was gently gripping his chin, turning his face towards hers and she dipped down, pressing her lips to his.

Naruto blinked at the sudden absence of her lips. Then he blinked up at her.

"What was that for?"

She's cradling the side of his face, her eyes narrowed with far away fondness. She smooths her thumb along his temple.

"I just… wanted to congratulate you." She leant in and pecked his forehead, then pulled away, turning away to leave.

She disappeared just as quickly as she had reappeared.

What did she mean by congratulations?

* * *

The sun has gone down.

His sandals fall heavily from his feet.

"Tadaima." He announces, catching his wife's gaze from the top of the stairs.

"Okaeri Nasai."

* * *

Her cryptic words and surprised visit had staved off his fatigue, and they lied together in bed facing one another.

"What were you congratulating me for?" He whispered in the thick darkness, like they were two kids talking under their covers.

Various thoughts passed through him in waves of tingles, each one stronger than the last.

Hinata merely smiled at him and said nothing.

His chest swelled with wet emotion that threatened to spill from his eyes.

"Are you pregnant?" The odds that his stray thought from earlier would come true hours later made his heart race.

Her smile curved into a tight smirk and she shrugged.

She's being so mischievous. And it's making it that much harder for his excitement to not skyrocket.

His hands snaked around her middle, his long-stagnant sense of mischief rekindling as he grabbed her waist and pulled her close. "C'mooon, tell me." Perhaps it was a little too early, but he attempted to sense new life growing inside of her.

Her arms wove around his neck and she hid her face in his chest.

He did feel something, but it was so small, so quiet, he couldn't help but question if it was anything at all.

Just then, she pressed herself against him, and the mood changed from silly to serious.

His hands smoothed to rub up and down her back and he waited for her to talk.

Twelve years and he knew not to rush her whenever she was feeling vulnerable or anxious.

The tingles had given way to whispery jitters, like a stray breeze ruffling through a path of dead leaves.

He held her close and he waited.

"If…" She began, hesitating. "... If there was someone else inside of me… would you hate her?"

"Her?" He leaned away but could not see past the top of her head. Did she already know the gender? Mothers have a sort of intuition for that sort of thing, don't they?

Compared to Boruto, Himawari had been an easy pregnancy, but it wasn't until four months in that Hinata _knew_.

Naruto's mind drifted to the sweet face of his only daughter, from cheeriness to her rare temper, to the cute way she looks when she pouts. So loving, so kind, just like her mother.

He hugged his wife tighter and nuzzled his cheek against her hair.

"Of course I wouldn't hate her! Who do you think you're asking?"

She relaxed against his body, and he'd nearly forgotten just how soft she truly is.

He reached behind his neck and pried her arms away. His large hands slid up to cradle her wrists and he eased her onto her back as he climbed atop her.

His heart is pounding.

He can see it in her eyes, the invitation for him to go wild and love her.

She's daring him.

Twelve years.

And yet, somehow his wife ceases to surprise him.

* * *

Sunlight pierces his brain and his eyes snap open.

Naruto climbs out of bed, his soles touching the cool floor, and he pauses there in the threshold between dreams and reality.

He stretches, moaning as he pops his back one vertebrae at a time.

He pulls on a pair of orange joggers and heads downstairs. His nose wrinkles when acrid smoke obscures the delicious smells of breakfast, and he hurries down the steps.

He freezes at the foot of the stairs.

Boruto is awake before him.

He's helping Hinata with breakfast.

His chest tightens with pride, and no small amount of confusion.

He closes the distance with a hearty greeting. "Boruto, are you getting cooking lessons from your mom?" He grinned, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair, only to get smacked away.

"Don't tease me, old man." He muttered, his gaze shifting from the pan of beaten eggs to his mother and back, like there was some secret language between them.

"Cranky, cranky," He joked under his breath as he approached his wife, his hand on her back. "So, how's our little novice doing?"

Hinata snorted, her palm smacking over her mouth to stop the noise. She stiffened.

Boruto turned around, his face scrunched in irritation. "I said don't tease me!"

* * *

Later that night, he found his wife in their connected bathroom. She stood in front of the sink facing the mirror.

He circled his arms around her waist. She's too short for him to lay his head against her shoulder, but he loves it when he can.

He loves laying his head anywhere on her soft body.

Her chest thumps with the reliable deepness of her heartbeat.

Her soft belly squeals and squelches, which usually means she wants a sweet snack.

The hollow space between her thighs when he rests his head is like the soothing echo of a conch shell, resonating the ambience of air and blood flow. It's meditative.

He watches her reflection as she plays with her hair, he observes how her lips compress when she seems disappointed and he laughs.

"You look fine. What's going on with you?"

"You prefer me like this?" She said, turning around to face him.

Naruto cupped the back of her thighs and hoisted her onto the sink. He leaned in, pressing the tip of his nose to hers and he breathed her in for a second.

"Even if you started wearing lipstick, my feelings wouldn't change. I don't prefer one you over the other."

He didn't expect her to throw her arms around his neck, to slam her lips to his and stop him from breathing.

The moment she introduced her tongue, he remembered.

If he doesn't breathe, he doesn't get to enjoy this moment with her.

* * *

_"Hey…" A voice calls out to him. It reverberates from a forgotten place, but it rouses him with its familiarity._

_Warmth and softness touch his lips._

_He blinks._

_The silhouette hovering above him is foggy._

And he blinks again.

Naruto squints up into his wife's face, pale like the moon and her hair like a halo of the midnight sky.

There's intent in the way she's gazing at him, like she's mentally devouring him inch by inch.

Naruto blinks slowly.

Her pajama top, it's unbuttoned halfway down, her milky breasts are on display.

His breath catches knowing he's fallen into a trap. He can't look away, and he sounds his frustration with a low groan that pitches into a whiny keen.

He's so tired he can't move.

He can barely process what he wants his body to do.

But she's doing it for him as she sits up straight and pushes her chest out for him.

He repeats the same sound, but stronger and faster.

His pleading eyes dart up to meet her placid ones.

Then a small smirk breaks across her face, and the back of his head throbs, but when she's oozing sensuality and spontaneity all at once, how can he even start to care about a little headache?

"What's wrong?" She coos, as she moves her hands down to the next button. "What do you want me to do with this?"

His jaw drops. Drool is piling in the back of his and he swallows. Loudly.

He's too exhausted to question the sudden striptease.

His head hurts too much to allow any more thinking.

Whether he's dreaming or caught his timid wife in a special mood, he wasn't about to complain.

"Show me more." He mustered. His whole body felt like it was clenched in lust, in anticipation.

She giggled again, but it wasn't at all like her sweet giggles. It was throaty. Her giggle puffed through her nose and accentuated her knowing, teasing smirk. Her eyes narrowed behind the lift of her cheeks and they gleamed with mischief.

How did he get a wife like this?

The button came undone with a smooth flick of her nimble fingers. The pink edges of her areola peeked out as her top spread wider across the generous breadth of her breasts.

His breathing grew heavier. He began to ache down there, yet his arms still felt heavy and useless.

Her hands moved down to the next button, and her brows lifted into her forehead as she asked him once again with her eyes.

Oh, she was going to play innocent the whole time, wasn't she?

"More." He growled, as if he were ordering a disobedient servant to hurry up.

He watched her tongue curl to touch the front of her right canines as she undid the next button.

Only two more and…

She pinched the hem of her top and pulled it down, causing her white skin to swell through the taut fabric.

If this was a wet dream, he'd take it.

It's been so long.

Three weeks since he came home drunk and pounded her on the floor, right in front of the genkan, with one sandal on.

"Can you see them?" She breathed, his eye following the rise and descent of her hardened nipples through her flannel. And that slip of pink that he was dying to taste.

As if reading his mind, she shuffled closed on her knees, then straddled his chest.

She wasn't wearing her pajama bottoms.

She wasn't wearing anything.

A hot, stickiness was pressed against his white shirt and his heart began wildly hammering in its cage.

She leaned forward, her heavy breasts brushing against his scratchy jawline.

"If you can't use your hands, use your tongue."

Naruto inhaled sharply, lust suffusing his last brain cell, and he lurched forward, his nose nudging the fabric aside before his lips closed over her nipple.

He shivered when she ran her nails across his scalp, down the back of his neck, causing the little hairs to rise up.

She moaned and chuckled and moaned harder still, pushing her breasts against his face, suffocating him with her skin.

She pulled away.

He gasped for breath.

Electricity jumped up his spine. It emerged from a center of pooling heat. And he gasped again. This time his hips leaning up into her brave hand.

His eyes squeezed shut as he drowned in the sensation of her grip sliding up and down his length, her forefinger and thumb barely touching around his girth, her palm rolling his weeping head in motions that knocked the breath from his lungs.

He threw his head back against his pillow and gritted his teeth.

_Don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, don't you dare fucking cum you weakling..!_

She circled her forefinger and thumb around the base of his dick just below his balls, and she tugged.

Tingles flooded him. He went rigid. His toes curled.

And he groaned the longest melody of frustration he has in months.

His body is slicked in sweat, from his temple to his soles and he heaves for breath.

His mind is cloudy, sparking with every new overflow of pleasure, and he peeks through his eyelids to find his not-so-meek wife of the past twelve years licking his thick cum from her fingers.

Twelve years.

Twelve years.

You think you would know someone by now.

* * *

Sunlight pierces his brain and his eyes snap open.

Naruto freezes.

He pats down either side of their bed.

She's not here.

No, of course not.

She would be cooking breakfast by now.

Naruto climbs out of bed, his soles touching the cool floor, and he pauses there in the threshold between dreams and reality.

He slept good?

His body feels lighter than ever.

Sex usually does that for him, it's just that… what he remembers doesn't seem particularly real at all.

When he heads downstairs to investigate, he finds his wife glaring at the egg batter inside the square pan as she works it into a roll for breakfast.

He wonders if Boruto gave up on cooking for today.

He tiptoes closer, as if the image in his head and the vision before him will ever meld into one Hinata.

He reaches out, brushing his fingertips against the curve of her waist and she jumps with a squeak. The square pan surges forward, causing the egg to roll erratically from one end to the other.

"Whoa, sorry! Sorry!" Naruto grasps her wrist and steadies the pan, lower it back onto the stove. He grasps her shoulder and turns her towards him. Her face is bright red, her eyes are cast down to the side. It's like she's twelve all over again. He glances at the tamagoyaki and reaches out to turn off the stove. Then bends at the waist to catch his wife's bashful gaze. "How did I scare you that bad?" He chuckles awkwardly.

He can't forget the way she was last night in his dreams.

Or maybe it was real.

"I was concentrating, okay?" She replied with a huff.

Naruto's brow furrowed, then his mouth pulled into a smirk.

"You were thinking about last night, weren't you? Why else would you be so easy to spook?"

"No. I told you, I was concentrating."

Naruto blinked rapidly, his smirk pulling back further in confusion.

An awkward silence gripped them.

"Please don't watch me cook. It's making me nervous."

He glanced at the tamagoyaki sitting on the far end of the pan. It was lopsided. Not perfect at all.

He gets it now.

She's having a bad morning.

Naruto pulled his humiliated wife into a hug and tucked her head beneath his chin. He smoothed his hand up and down her back.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Her arms hesitantly circled around his waist, and they tightened their mutual embrace.

* * *

The following night, it happens again.

The slow tease of her undressing. The deliberate intent in her gaze to witness him unravel.

But then she does something different.

She envelopes his cock between her partially exposed breasts, his weeping, purpling head popping up between her immaculate globes, and it's at once beautiful and grotesque.

The firm pressure of her soft, soft skin has his gasping for breath.

Before he knows it, he's going to cum all over her breasts.

He grits his teeth, fighting the urge to hump his wife's tits into that cloudy oblivion.

He has to be dreaming.

Having her, being married to her, loved by her; that's a dream in of itself. But this...

Against his better judgment, he peeks through on eye, and for a second he feels like prey before a hungry lioness.

She pumps her breasts faster. She dips her head down and opens her mouth.

_She isn't…_

Her tongue lolls out and swipes across his slit, licking up a clear glob of precum and he's done for.

The moment he starts convulsing, she closes her lips around his head, catching the ropes of cum jettisoning into her mouth.

He's melting.

When she opens her mouth, and reveals the pearlescent cream obscuring her tongue, his body shudders again and he's rendered boneless.

How did he end up with a wife like this?

* * *

The following morning, he can't help but embrace his wife from behind as she cooks.

She had shooed him off, but he resisted.

"Just pretend I'm not here." He giggled.

He watched her roll the tamagoyaki more carefully this time.

"It looks good." He said, knowing a little praise goes a long, long way with his precious wife.

The way she responded sent heat rushing to his face, and tingles bursted from his groin.

She was rubbing her yummy, heart-shaped ass against him.

He choked down his groan and raised his face up to the ceiling.

"H,Hey, isn't it a little too early for that?" He tuned his senses towards their children's bedrooms. They were still asleep.

"Better than being a little too late."

Naruto tilted at the waist to look into his wife's face.

She wouldn't look at him, but that smirk nagged at him.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He said.

"It means… that we have more time than you realize."

* * *

Once breakfast has concluded, Naruto threw his arms up high with an exuberant grin.

"Alright! What should we do today?"

Boruto and Himawari exchanged confused looks.

"I dunno? I have class today." Boruto said as he picked up his empty dishes and placed them in the sink.

"Ehhh?! Since when?"

Boruto turned around and shot him a crossed look. "What do you mean 'since when'?!"

Naruto crossed his arms and reclined in his chairs.

"But it's finally my day off! Are you really going to the Academy instead?"

Boruto's expression softened, but his confusion remained. Then a furtively sly gleam entered his eyes.

"So, as Hokage, you're saying I get to play hooky today?"

Naruto had no idea what his kid was going on about, but he imagined giving him the illusion of permission was just as good as if he had tried to skip class anyways. Not that he would have gotten far, if he did.

"Sure, sure! It's an immediate directive starting now," As if sensing his playfulness, his wife got up to retrieve a sheet of printer paper and pen. She placed it down in front of him. It gave him role play ideas. _For another time_. He thanked her and began to scribble the permission slip, then drew and 'x' and a line at the bottom. And with a near illegible flourish, he signed his name. "There."

Himawari was more lit up than the North Star as she watched this fake diplomacy play out.

Boruto looked at the sheet and smirked.

"Alright, I guess I have no choice but to stay home and play video games." He turned around with a shrug, acting like he'd been given a burdensome task.

Naruto shot up in his chair. "What?! No! It's family time! Faaamily tiiiime!"

Boruto's laugh echoed from the second floor.

* * *

"Is it really okay to let him stay home?" Naruto sighed as he took his wife and daughter on a trip to the bakery.

"How about we pick a movie for later?" Hinata said, causing their daughter's eyes to widen and sparkle.

Himawari began tugging on his shirt and hopping up and down. "Oh, please can we see a movie?! Please?! Please?! Pleaaaaase?!"

Naruto laughed. "You have one in mind, don't you Hima-chan?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh! This girl, she gets a letter from her dad but she's never met him and there's a seal on the letter and the seal sends her back in time and--"

Naruto grinned as he listened to his ray of sunshine go on and on about the trailer she saw on TV.

He laughs when she gets all out of breath.

"Alright, alright, you've convinced me! We'll watch it tonight!"

"YAY!"

* * *

After their trip to the bakery, Naruto had caught a look of longing on his wife's face.

It was a brand new cosmetics store.

Back in their day, lipstick was a paint of crushed pigment, at least that is, it was for Kurenai-sensei. It was the same method for warpaint like Kankuro likes to wear. With Ino, she had made her own from crushed flowers and semi-solid oil. It was different from the stark matte reds and purples of other kunoichi.

Stuff he was never really interested in, but absorbed over the years from her girlish conversations with Sakura.

Hinata's lips had been painted on their wedding day, but it had appeared like nothing he'd ever seen before. The same shade of red spider lilies. Shinier than wood lacquer or polished stone, or clear ice just as it's melting. Her lips looked like jewels.

He tapped her shoulder for her attention, smiled and nodded towards the store.

He knew he was going to regret this, but it was for his wife.

Her eyes glowed in relief and they went inside.

She immediately headed for the display box of lipstick.

It was Himawari who he had to wrangle from one color palette to another.

He pried a black stick from her hand that was topped with orange. "No, no, these aren't like your crayons, Hima-chan," He chuckled nervously, before offering to give her a piggyback ride. "Let's go check on your mom."

Hinata turned around and showed off the color she wanted.

It wasn't red like on their wedding, nor was it as natural as Ino's preferred colors.

It was the same color as a plum.

* * *

Naruto and Boruto bickered the whole way to the theater.

"I _don't_ wanna watch a cruddy girls' movie!"

"It doesn't sound that girly to me! Besides, you lost your chance to vote. The council moved ahead without you."

"What?! That's that not fair!"

Naruto playfully jeered at this son. "I let you play video games all day, didn't I?"

Boruto tsked and kicked at the ground upon accepting his defeat.

Naruto smiled at his wife as they neared the outside ticket booth. She had this look in her eye like 'serves you right', and it was weird. Kind of cute, but very uncharacteristic.

"Hey, Hinata, am I being too rough on Boruto?"

Her eyes widened as though she had been caught making a grave mistake.

"Yeah, tell him he is, mom!"

"Uhm, well…" Her eyes searched their surroundings as though the answer would walk up to her. "No, I think it's perfectly fair."

Boruto deflated and Naruto couldn't help but grin. He faced his son with the same teasing jeer. "And that's why I'm Hokage."

Boruto rolled his eyes. "That is _not_ why you're Hokage." 

* * *

His wife was in the bathroom again.

He watched her from their bed.

Her new lipstick was in her right hand but she wasn't putting it on.

"C'mon, lemme see!" He cheered, hoping he wasn't adding to her anxiety. Thirty-one years old and she's suddenly interested in her own appearance. His wife really is a late bloomer. But, then again, so was he.

He hears her sigh as she uncaps the item.

A quick circular swipe and she's done.

His wife stays right there.

He sighs and chuckles in the same breath as he rises from the bed to stand behind her.

"You hate it… don't you?" She mumbled.

Naruto turned her around, then lifted her face by her chin.

"You look like Hinata. How can I hate that?"

"Then we… better make good use of this while we can." She gaze up at him from behind lust-lidded eyes and next thing he knew, he found himself flat on his back.

Not in their bed, like decent folk, but on the floor, with her greedy hands dragging his pants and boxers down his hips.

It didn't take much to get him hard.

He watched as she took his whole length inside her mouth, how she closed her freshly colored lips around the base of dick.

When she pulled up, she left behind a ring of her lipstick.

Suddenly he had the urge to buy her a new shade.

One that was exactly the same color as red spider lilies.

* * *

Naruto had summoned Sai.

The rumors of the poisonings has gone unchanged and he needs leads now.

His spying on the suspected Bōryokudan group has gone unchanged as well. No matter how early he sends his clone out, he always comes away with very little information.

He relays this information to him, and Sai takes his leave to begin an immediate investigation for both issues.

_Maybe Sai's networking will prove more productive than my past attempts._

By sundown, Naruto is stiff and full of aches.

He reclines in his office chair. Grasping at his shoulder, he rolls his head, trying to clear up the tension in his body.

But then the image of his uninhibited wife springs unbidden and he stiffens, as if she had been the one to catch him off guard this time.

A different sort of tension sinks into his body, accumulating lower and lower. His face grows hot, and he feels a touch dizzy.

The past few nights have given way to a new routine, one that he could hardly complain about.

His mind drifts away. Then he catches himself, his eyes widening when he remembers he is not home, but in the most sacred of all offices.

Even Rokudaime refrained from reading Icha Icha Paradise inside these walls.

* * *

"Tadaima."

Naruto hovered inside the genkan for a minute. Then two.

Then five.

His jaw shifted to the side as he worked off his shoes.

He decided to tuck away his disappointment.

Perhaps Boruto had been a handful after his classes. He hadn't heard wind of him all day, though.

He ascended the stairs, pausing every now and then, wondering if his heavy footfalls would gift him with a little attention.

No.

Nothing.

He reached the top, then made his way to their bedroom.

He stared at the door, his eyes finally adjusting to the thick darkness.

The bottom crevice was not illuminated like it had been some other times. Those were the times when she waited up for him until she passed out.

What was different about this time?

She seemed… a little snippy this morning too, now that he thought about it.

Maybe his mood had been too good to be spoiled, so he didn't notice.

Maybe he's blowing it out of proportion because he feels left out in the cold right now.

Something is there where it never existed.

Or nothing is there because it never existed.

He turns the knob and rushes in.

He waits in the darkness until he can see. He's facing their bed, he knows this much.

He perceives the curve of her body beneath the sheets and his heart grows heavy inside his chest.

She didn't even wait up for him.

What was different this morning?

He made sure not to spook her.

She was quiet, but not at all angry, more like deep in thought.

Oh yeah. Her tamagoyaki appeared rather wonky, as if she had already been struggling with it.

He feels like slapping his forehead.

That should've tipped him off from the start! It's so rare for her to mess up cooking! His wife is someone who does something with all her heart, and it is this where she never fails no matter what.

So why was her heart not in it this morning?

Naruto undresses down to his undershirt and boxers, then carefully slides into bed.

He stares at the back of her head.

He's always made sure she was tucked inside the shelter of his arms. But now, as he reaches towards her, his hand stops mid-air, and he can't seem to close the distance.

He'll wake her if he does.

But she's never been mad at him.

She's always giggled and snuggled in closer.

_You're overreacting. She's the same as she's always been._

He scooches closer. He rests his hand over the curve of her hip.

_Nothing's changing._

_Twelve years doesn't change in a day. Get a grip._

He pulls her in.

But then her palm meets his chest and she rolls out of his grasp with an irritated moan.

She settles in and she's quiet again.

And he stares at her.

His mind refuses to acknowledge, but it also doesn't cease to replay to him what's just happened.

_Twelve years doesn't change that easily._

But what the hell did he know?

One of his subordinates took leave of absence because he got rocked with divorce. The proceedings were simple enough. After three days and three nights apart, their divorce was granted and their marriage was void.

It was his newfound singledom that the man couldn't deal with.

He had said it happened out of nowhere, and that she had no reason to give him.

Naruto flew out of bed and he rushed to the wall, slapping on the ceiling light.

Hinata stirred with a lengthy whine. She grabbed her pillow and tugged it over her head.

"Hinata."

"..."

"Hinata!"

The pillow shifted away, and she shushed him like a hissing viper. Then she moved her pillow and firmly held it over her head again.

_Oh, hell no._

_No, no, no, no, no._

Naruto circled the bed and wrenched her pillow from her claws. He grabbed his pillow from her reach and tossed them both to the floor.

She shot up with a glare, and he froze.

He watched her dig the heel of palms into her closed eyes. Her right hand then adjusted her bangs, parting it to the side, a wedge of white forehead staring back at him.

Naruto collapsed onto his ass.

She, this person who looks like his wife, she stiffened. Her eyes widened in horror.

Her hand moves to fix her bangs, but… but that didn't help.

That didn't help at all!

"Where's Hinata?"

She winced.

"I _am_ Hinata."

"No. My wife," He throat closed over the words. "Where is she?"

Her cold, sarcastic eyes darted over in his direction, and underneath he saw turmoil: humiliation, despair, insecurity. "Don't you remember me?"

He does.

He doesn't want to.

But he does.

"Where's _my_ Hinata?"

She hugs her middle and it's this point when he finally sees her red-rimmed eyes, the tacky sheen of her cheeks.

She's been crying.

She then clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes.

_No, no, no, no, no, no. This is not happening._

He thought back to his subordinate, to the wife that supposedly gave him no explanation.

_"She said I was a different person. But I swear, I'm exactly the same."_

Naruto choked on his protests as they had risen as suddenly as the bitter bile climbing his throat.

He was on her in seconds, her thin wrists gripped in the vice of his big hands, he pinned her to the bed and would not allow her a chance to move.

"Look at me," He barked. She wouldn't. "Look at me!"

She eyed him defiantly, and he willfully ignored the way his heart was shattering.

_Twelve years gone._

_Our whole lives, gone._

_No._

_No._

"You weren't real. How are you here?!"

She sucked her bottom lip beneath her teeth, her brave stoicism crumbling so easily.

"Aren't I allowed to be?"

His grip tightened to the point of bruising. Neglecting the fact that this is precious wife's body, that it is _her_ wrists that are creaking beneath the pressure.

"You're not allowed to steal my wife's body."

The tears bubble again. Desperation comes off of her body like vapor. "She's fine. I promise, okay? She,She said I could."

"You could what?!"

"Share. She said she would share."

This means, last night wasn't his wife.

The night before wasn't his wife.

How long has he… How long has she been tricking him?

Naruto pushed off of the bed and sped off towards the bathroom. He shut the door and locked it.

A quick survey around the bathroom and her lipstick was nowhere to be seen.

As if that other woman hadn't existed at all.

But she did.

And she had her way with him.

He collapsed onto the shut toilet and hung his head in his hands.

There was a timid knock on the door.

"Naruto…" She said, no honorific, no sweetness in her tone. It was flat, almost demanding.

"If you don't leave her body right now, I--"

"But you said you couldn't hate me! You said if I look like Hinata, you couldn't hate me! You said don't prefer one Hinata over the other!"

His feet slapped against the linoleum as he rushed to the door and he threw it open.

His stomach churned at the sight of her. He had always prided himself on understanding his wife's feelings through her eyes.

But this whole time he's been reading hers.

And she's frightened.

Like the next word from him will send her to death.

His gaze dropped to the side. "Those words weren't meant for you."

"Please let me stay." She whispered, voice breaking.

He recalls the crass and aggressive version of Hinata he had encountered way back when, in what he and Sakura had agreed to call 'fever dream', despite knowing it was Obito's doing. It was an experience not worth sharing otherwise.

That Hinata was sixteen.

She was loud, in your face. She was fists firsts, ask questions later. She was possessive, obsessive, almost controlling.

He dared another look at her, and he found nothing of the sixteen year old other in this Hinata before him.

_Wait…_

She was _sixteen_.

Naruto stumbled and backed into the sink, his face burning as he cupped his mouth.

"H,H,How old are you now?"

She crossed her arms. "Do you think I would know?!"

"Oh god, I've been doing it with a sixteen year old…"

"Maybe I'm not sixteen either! I was never _alive_ for sixteen years! I was only made to believe in the past he'd given me! That he'd given us!"

Naruto winced at Her.

"Does that mean… you might only be a few hours old?"

Her face reddened and she rounded on her heel with bared teeth as she paced towards the bed.

She grabbed his pillow, punched it five times, that smashed to her face, letting out a muffled scream.

Just when he thought that person was gone, there she is, as over-the-top as ever.

But then her shoulders began to shake.

She dropped down to her knees, her body convulsing around his pillow.

She was sobbing.

But that wasn't his Hinata crying.

Every fiber of his being screamed to go get her and hold her tight.

But his heart just wasn't in it.

He walked past her. He grabbed his wife's pillow and made his exit from the bedroom.

He chose to sleep on the couch.

He hoped she would take the hint and be gone by sun up.

* * *

Sunlight pierces his brain and his eyes snap open.

Naruto freezes.

He pats down either side of their bed.

 _Their_ bed.

Naruto jackknifes up.

He was definitely on the couch last night.

Maybe this meant… _Maybe this means everything's gone back to normal!_

He ripped the sheets away and burst out from their bedroom.

His feet pounded along the stairs. He was loud enough to wake the kids, but it was the last thought in his mind.

He prayed last night had been an overly elaborate nightmare. A prank genjutsu. Something!

He hovered in the entryway, in the threshold between dreams and reality.

His wife pushed a thin layer of omelette into a lopsided roll with chopsticks. Beside her on a tray are four bowls of miso soup and slightly undercooked white rice. On the counter is a plate of blackened fish and tsukemono as well.

A familiar scene, yet oh-so wrong.

Like someone just handed him a knockoff recreation of a beloved memory.

"You…" He croaked. "How? How are you here?"

She gave a dispassionate shrug. "The power of love?" She finished rolling the tamagoyaki and cussed in frustration. "I _will_ master this one day," She said as she pointed her chopsticks in his direction. "Don't count me out just yet."

"Is that when you'll leave?"

He didn't mean to say it.

It just came out.

She deposited the tamagoyaki onto an empty plate and shut off the stove.

She placed the chopsticks down on the edge of a plate, and she stood there silently.

"I see you through her eyes. She shares her memories with me freely. She's impossibly kind, it's almost sickening. ," She laughs, but it's hollow, sad. "I'm shielding her right now, by the way. Do you wish for her to know you this way? To know that you're a liar?"

"I said those words weren't meant for _you_!"

Her nails scratched along the counter as she bared her teeth and threw her knee into the cabinet, the sound rattling his ears. Naruto closed the distance and tugged her away, but as she wrenched herself from his grasp, she muttered: "Nothing seems to be meant for me."

There was a creak on the stairwell that drew their eyes.

"Dad? What's with all the noise?" His son's sleepy voice drifted into the kitchen, along with Himawari's emphatic yawn.

She brushed past him, smiling sweetly as his kids.

She patted their heads. "Everything's fine. Your father just has a little too much energy today. Please go wash up, breakfast will be ready soon."

"'Too much energy'? Pfft, that'd be a first." Boruto said as he headed back up the stairs with Himawari in tow.

When silence was theirs once again, she snapped towards him, pinning him with a look he never wanted to see on his wife's face, like he was letting her down.

"I want you. I want _this_."

"Hinata never discussed it with me. _I_ have to have a say!"

Her face twisted in a snarl as she looked away.

"That's the least disappointing part about all of this. You couldn't tell, could you? How afraid I've been to reveal myself? You, who loves and forgives everyone, even the murderer of your parents--"

Her shoulders were in his grip. What does she know?! She can't judge him for that! If he loses Hinata..!

"How do I know if Hinata isn't lost forever? How do I know you didn't do something to her?!"

He wants the problem to be Her. He wants to believe she's the latest villain in his life, the next evil to be vanquished, purified and released, whatever.

But then thinks back as far as he can, to when he was last sure Hinata was Hinata.

There have been times where Hinata avoided him like the plague. It was impossible to get her to talk about what was bugging her, which was weird considering they went through rougher stuff together.

She had said she feels embarrassed and ashamed to have such minor complaints.

She had said she'd rather not hurt his feelings by airing her disappointments.

She had said that she would always move on given she had sufficient space to process.

Yes, this happened recently.

He tried not to push, and she faded away anyways.

She rested her hands atop his and she looked him straight in the eyes.

"You're able to understand her just by looking. Are you able to understand me? Do you think I'm _fucking_ lying?"

Even if she wasn't that doesn't change much.

He's looking at her, and all he sees are those beautiful lips he wants to kiss, those eyes that used to accept him body and soul. He wants to hear her voice, the way it's meant to sound, the lilt of her intonation, the bell-like twinkle of her laughter, the way her airy voice forms his name as though every vowel were worshipped on her tongue.

There's no malice in her heart, no erratic pulse thrumming through her body.

She's not lying.

His Hinata is fine.

But even so, that doesn't change much.

Naruto releases her. He moves to step away but she grabs hold of his wrists and she keeps him there.

She keeps him from leaving.

"I'm Hinata, too."

He twists his wrists out and side-steps her. He makes his way upstairs.

It's going to be a long day at the Tower today.

Even if he shares this with her, it'll never be truly hers.

And he'll never fall in love with her.

He doesn't know what will become of her once she finally leaves.

But if he can make that decision easier for her, then he will.

But somehow, he can't help but doubt himself.

If only there was a better way.

* * *

His son is looking at him warily.

"Oi, something wrong with mom's cooking?"

"What?" Naruto glanced down at his plate. He could barely stomach this food let alone this fraudulent moment. "No, your mom's cooking gets better and better every day." He blinked, a sense of déjà vu unsettling him.

Boruto stares at his partially eaten fish, the untouched tamagoyaki, the rice bowl which bore a divot.

"Uh-huh." Boruto finishes his last bite of rice with tsukemono and he takes his dishes over to the sink.

"Is daddy okay?" Himawari asked as she swayed and wiggled in her seat.

His face flushes cold.

He has to keep this up.

Even though it's fake.

Even though this isn't really their mother!

Naruto offered his precious daughter a confident grin.

Something he hasn't had to do in ages.

"Everything's fine, Hima-chan."

* * *

Naruto is slumped in his office chair and rubbing his temples.

Nothing's changed. Not with the cult, or the Bōryokudan or the poisoning of brother girls.

Sai seemed to be in a mood to want to vex him beyond his limit.

_"What's the status on the brothel girls?" He asked, glaring at his screen as he re-typed yesterday's reports. He couldn't believe four hours of work could just disappear like that._

_"I'm sorry?"_

_Naruto's forehead smacked into the butt of his palm as he steadied his nerves with a measured sigh._

_"The investigation. Rumors of poisoning?"_

_Sai stood there silently for a moment. "I see. I'll get on that right now."_

Naruto had watched him leave, confused as to why one of his best would pretend to be so clueless.

Not only did he have to re-type reports, putting him behind for today's work, but...

_Tonkatsu-ya's sign has been stolen. Again._

_Madam Shimiji is missing another cat. Again._

_A group of kids, between ages twelve to fifteen, have been suspected of scamming foreign visitors and still they have not dealt with._

It's starting to feel like a never-ending cycle!

An impatient series of knocks on his door could be felt in his skull, and he did what he could to rein in his temper.

"Come iiiin."

The door opens with a creak and a familiar silhouette catches his eye.

She's carrying a bento bundled in cloth, her gaze deadpan though a touch calculating.

"Thought you might be hungry." She said as she made her way towards his desk. She placed the bento down in front of him, and her hands came to rest on her hips.

His stomach groaned but his appetite was missing-in-action.

"It's not poisoned." She sighed as she circled around the desk to his side and organized his paperwork, giving him space to eat.

She leaned against the desk, watching as he slowly untied the cloth.

Food from his wife was like a gift from heaven.

Food from this woman, well… let's just say he's a spoiled grown man now.

He takes the lid off. _She's going to watch me eat every single bite or hurl me out the window, I just know--_

But then she was gently gripping his chin, turning his face towards hers and she dipped down.

He pulled away before she could make contact.

She blinked rapidly, but she kept her emotions carefully hidden.

"Out of all the Menmas I've met, you're the only Naruto. Did you know that?"

How long has she been travelling?

How many worlds has she seen?

"Congratulations, by the way." She stepped away and headed for the door.

_No. No, no, no._

Naruto slammed his desk as he shot up.

"What do you mean by that?!"

Because that day wasn't his Hinata, and she hadn't been talking about having another child with him.

She stopped, her fingers pressed to the door.

"You worked really hard to get here, right?" Her gaze roamed the walls of the office, lastly settling on his Hokage's hat on the left corner of his desk. "I'm really, truly proud of you." She turned around and shut the door behind her.

Naruto sank down into his chair.

He squeezed his eyes shut and he opened his senses, locking onto Her moving form through the Tower.

That barely something-something inside of his wife's body, it's like a gentle, pristine pool in the middle of an overgrown forest tangled in brambles.

He tries to sink into that pool, to be reunited with his wife.

But somehow, he can't reach her.

And no matter how he thinks about it, he can't seem to understand her.

He can't help but feel like this is her way of getting away from him.

* * *

Boruto is asleep with his head hanging down the side of the bed, his comforter kicked to the side.

Naruto scoops up his son and adjusts him, placing his head on his pillow where it belongs. He draws the comforter up over his shoulders.

He checks on Himawari next. Her stuffed panda has escaped from her hold and is lying on the floor.

He picks up the stuffie and tucks back under her arm. He tugs her comforter just a little higher.

He watches as she snuggles her face into her favorite toy, and he can't help but smile.

But he's not smiling in his heart.

He doesn't know what to do.

Their mother isn't their mother right now.

Don't they have a right to know?

* * *

He's soaking in the bath when she welcomes herself in, no towel pressed to her front for modesty. She's completely naked.

He's always seen her naked.

But somehow he can't look.

"Anata, is there room for one more?" She teases him.

He peeks at her like the stranger she is.

His Himawari spent the whole day with her.

She has the past… he isn't even sure.

Doesn't he have a say in this?

Doesn't he have a right to keep a stranger away from his kids?

He opens his mouth, but she's climbing in anyways, and she slides herself into the hot water, then tucks herself against his front with a relieved moan.

His nose twitches with a grimace.

Her soft, full bottom is pressed against his groin and he grits his teeth and looks away.

He can smell her freshly washed hair.

It's a nostalgic scent that doesn't belong to her.

 _She_ doesn't belong here.

"That Boruto sure is something else," She began, her voice rich with mirth. She regaled the day's events, recalled past moments that she had not been present for, and happily mused at his natural talent for ninjutsu. "And yet he's nothing like you at all! He's such a slacker! But he's a momma's boy too," She gushed happily. "He knows how to be a behaved young man he needs to be. And Himawari!" She squealed suddenly in delight. "The other day on our way to the bakery, to think I could make someone as cute as her!"

Naruto chewed his tongue the whole way through, but that last bit his teeth nearly slid the wrong way.

He'd have a mouthful of blood right now had that happened.

Himawari isn't Her's.

She did not _make_ his Himawari.

But she seems genuinely happy. She seems head-over-heels for his kids.

She can't have any kids.

She can't have anything.

_"Out of all the Menmas I've met, you're the only Naruto."_

_"You worked really hard to get here, right?"_

Is Hinata really sharing her memories with this other? Does She know him as well as his Hinata?

"... Sounds like you had a good day today." He said, a weak and awkward effort to play into her desire for domestic companionship.

"It's all thanks to you," She snuggled against him deeper. "None of this would've been possible without you," When she tilted her head back to look up at him, his breath caught, because for a moment he was staring down into the fearful, self-conscious Hinata he knew best. "Thank you, Naruto. I hope to have many more perfect days from here on out."

All he ever wanted as a child was to belong. To a family, to his village. He wanted to mean something to somebody. To have worth. He knew he always deserved it, even when it felt so hard to get.

All his Hinata ever wanted to be accepted, appreciated, nurtured. To be seen and valued. All she ever wanted was to no longer be afraid.

_She grabbed his pillow, punched it five times, that smashed to her face, letting out a muffled scream._

_Just when he thought that person was gone, there she is, as over-the-top as ever._

_But then her shoulders began to shake._

_She dropped down to her knees, her body convulsing around his pillow._

_She was sobbing._

What if… What if he knows her just as well as he knows his wife?

What if, at their core, they're really no different at all?

He swallowed his pride and carefully circled his arms around her frame.

It was light at first, too light.

But then he pushed himself to touch her, to press his skin to her skin, to hold her with a little more familiarity.

"You worked really hard to get here too, huh?"

She chuckled warmly. "You have no idea."

.

.

.

_"Well you look like yourself,_  
_But you're somebody else,_  
_Only it ain't on the surface,_  
_Well you talk like yourself,_  
_No, I hear someone else though,_  
_Now you're making me nervous,"_

_\- Flora Cash "Somebody Else"_


End file.
